Trial
by Shimmerwings
Summary: Painful revelations during Jack's trial. Another angsty Jack/David slash piece, with mentions of other slashy tendencies.
1. David

**Title:  Trial**

**Rating:  PG**

**Synopsis:  Painful revelations during Jack's trial.**

**Category:  Slash(mostly implied, but still there), angst**

**Warnings:  More angsty David.  **

**Feedback:  Yes, please.  Constructive criticism is welcomed eagerly.**

**Archiving:  Just ask, I suppose.**

**Note:  This is honestly the first story I've ever written in first person point-of-view.  This story couldn't be written any other way, though.  I guess Trial can be placed alongside my Newsies ficlet.  They're not exactly the same storyline, but they're parallel.  More angsty David, implied slash.  Yeesh.  At least this one's longer, right guys?  I promise I'll have some fluff soon.  I got the dialogue in this story from a script of Newsies found at http://www.angelfire.com/movies/disneybroadway/newsiesscript.html **

To Crunch-- *goes teary-eyed* Your review for Newsies Ficlet was my first story review ever.  And it was so nice!  Thank you.  I'll have to think of something nice to do for you.  You say you don't like slash?  Hmm . . .well, I'll come with something.

Thank you to my other reviewers, as well.  You're what made this fic happen.

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Most of them are there.  The judge looks annoyed, but I'm not surprised; Race is looking smug, like he does when he just stacked a poker deck in his favor.  Some of them are scraped and bruised, but for the most part they seem fine.  All except one, who's missing.  It's the missing boy I'm worried about. Where--

"Where's Jack?"

Good.  My voice was steady.  With this fear churning up inside me, I was afraid it wouldn't be.  Denton's saying something about meeting at the restaurant.  I'm too busy searching faces to hear the rest of what he says.

I look at Race and Spot.  They don't look upset--at least, not any more upset than can be expected.  They don't seem to know where Jack is, either, but at least they don't think he's . . . I'm not sure where I think he could be.  I don't _want to think about it._

The judge is trying to clear us out and, still, there's no sign of Jack.  Wouldn't he have to be tried with the other Newsies?  Maybe I should ask Denton.

The door opens as I'm shuffling closer to Denton.  I look up.  

Jack.

"Hey fellas!"  His voice is cheerful, cocky.  It should be reassuring, so why is my skin crawling?  It might be the bruise high on his cheekbone, or the handcuffs.  It might be.  But what really knots my stomach is the smirk on Snyder's face. 

"Hey, Denton.  I guess we made all the papes this time.  So, how's my picture look?"  He's so confident he'll win, we'll win.  He must not see the look Snyder's giving him.  The one that's staining my thoughts cold and fearful.

Denton hesitates.  "None of the papers covered the rally.  Not even the Sun," he finally says.

I turn to look at Denton, surprise yanking my gaze away from Jack's face, but not before I see his expression.  He's confused.  So am I.

"Case of Jack Kelly.  Inciting a riot.  Assault.  Resisting arrest."  

"Judge Monahan," Snyder begins, his voice oily, "I'll speak for this young man."  They've already started the trial while I'm still trying to figure out what Denton was saying, what effect this will have on the strike.  I'm floundering, freezing.

"You two know each other.  Ain't that nice."  Jack is fighting back in the only way he can:  with his words.  Somehow this anchors me, pushes back the tide of fear.  If Jack is still fighting, there's still a chance.  I relax a little.

"This boy's real name is Francis Sullivan. His mother's deceased. His father's a convict in the state penitentiary. He's an escapee from the House of Refuge where his original sentence for three months was extended to six moths for disruptive behavior."

With these words, the tide rushes in again, shaking my hold on Jack.  I look desperately at Jack, waiting for him to deny the charges, to prove me right about our friendship.  Needing to be proved right.

"Like demanding we eat the food you steal from us."

He can't deny it.  

I feel sick and have to look down.  I don't need to hear the rest of the trial and the growing desperation in Jack's voice to know that enough damage has been done.   I'm supposed to know words, but the only way to describe how I feel is . . . lost.

Every memory I have of Jack is false.  From the very beginning, all I heard were lies.  I want to figure out who Jack Kelly--_Francis Sullivan--really is, but I don't have any place to start.  And the thing that's really eating me up inside is . . . if he lied about something as simple as his name, then he can't have been telling the truth when he talked to me about his feelings._

_* "__It's just improving the truth a little"*_

I want to scream, to cry, to punch someone, to walk out and quit.  I won't, though.  That's one truth Jack taught me: to not give up, to go down fighting.  And it's something to cling to while I fight through this pain.  Maybe if Jack could be right about that, he could be right about other things.  I'll think about it later, when my stomach isn't rebelling and my throat isn't burning.

"I ask that the court order his incarceration until the age of twenty-one, in the hope that we may yet guide him to a useful and productive life."

I hold my breath, hoping for what I know is impossible.

"So ordered."  The sound of the gavel is so final.

"No!"  Les shouts.

No.


	2. Spot

**Warnings:  Tons of UST**

**Notes:  I hadn't planned on doing any follow-up pieces for this.  Well, I took Kaylee's suggestion into consideration, about following up with Jack's POV, but nothing leapt out at me or inspired me about that idea; it would be too . . . cliché . . . to do that.  Until, that is, I was hit with a sudden burst of inspiration (or one of my more violent muses) and it occurred to me--Spot!  That would certainly be a different take on it.  After that (and a good deal of pounding my head on the computer screen) it all fell into place.  There will be two other points of view after Spot and each one will (hopefully) weave around David's, making a larger picture.  I did have to upgrade from more-or-less implied slash to definite slashiness all over the place.  I had always believed it was likely that Spot had a thing for Jack (who doesn't?).  I, personally, don't think they ever had a relationship, but the sense of could-have-been is strong between them.  I also think that you could make a strong case for Denton liking David (not the other way around!).  So, that's where I'm coming from in this chapter.**

***********************************

"All rise.  All rise.  Court is now in session.  Judge E.A. Monahan presiding."

What's with this guy?  'All rise'?  Says it like we ain't already standin' or something.  I snort.  Ain't even like there's anybody else here to see or even care if we're treatin' the judge with respect.  Just me and a group of the Manhattan boys.

"Are any of you boys represented by council?"  the right honorable judge asks us.

'Course we aren't.  We're just newsboys.  Monahan knows it just as much as I do.

"No?  Good, that will move things along considerably."

At least he isn't pretending this is a fair trial.  Still, I don't wanna make this too easy on the bastard.

"Hey, yer honor, I object!"

That got his attention all right.  He's looking at me like I'm a dried bit of dung on his shoe that he's gotta take the effort to scrape off.  I give him my most insincere grin in return; the one I use especially for those lady customers that call me cute, the one that tells 'em exactly how 'cute' I'll be if they say anything else.

"On what grounds?"

"On the grounds of Brooklyn, yer honor."

Monahan's so mad his face is turnin' red, but at least the boys are laughing.  Can't have 'em thinking we're beat.  What with Jack bein' gone somewhere, someone's gotta take charge.  

I don't know where they're keepin' Jack, but I know it can't be any fun.  These guys have it in worse for him than for any of us.  He's the leader of this strike.  To them, we're just pests that'll crawl away if they take away what's guidin' us.  Can't say I like what that says about what's in store for our Jacky-boy.

"I fine each of you five dollars, or two weeks confinement in the House of Refuge."

A murmur of shock goes through our group.  I can hear them whispering about how much money we'd lose if we was locked up for two weeks.  Too damn much.  One of Jack's boys, Racetrack, speaks up at one point, offering Monahan a wager.

"Your honor, I'll pay the fines.  All of them."

That's a whole lotta cash.  I turn to see just who this guy is who can afford to pay five dollars for each Newsie.

He just came in the back door.  It's that reporter--Denton, Jack called him.  Guy who got us in the papes.  Guess a big shot news reporter like him has enough money to spend like that.  I notice that he's got some others with him.  Jack's Walkin' Mouth and his kid brother.

"Hey, you fellas alright?"  David asks us.  I can tell that's not what he really wants to ask, not with the way he's looking around, face all worried.  "Where's Jack?"

"Look, we've got to meet at the restaurant.  Everybody.  We have to talk," Denton says in a hurry.

Ah, there's the question David wanted to ask.  And I caught something else, too.    I take a closer look at them.

David watching us.  Denton watching David.

The door opens again and David looks up eagerly.  I can tell by his face that it's Jack who steps through.  Denton can tell, too.  He's not so happy to see Jack as the rest of us.  

"Hey fellas!" Jack says.    

I take a closer look at him.  My fingers curl into fists.  It ain't right seein' Jack Kelly in 'cuffs.  

"Hey, Cowboy!  Nice shiner!"

Jack's not paying attention to Racetrack or the rest of the guys.  First thing he does is search out David.  My fists clench tighter, but I force myself to relax.  Won't do any good to soak David, not if I ever want to talk to Jack again.  Besides, when I'm being truthful with myself I know it's not his fault that Jack loves him.  And I sure can't blame him for lovin' Jack.

I've known for a while that Jack and David had somethin' going on between them.  I saw it when they came asking me for help.  They hadn't even realized it yet, but I could see the signs of it.  I'd been friends with Jack too long not to know what he looked like in love.  We had history me an' him.  But mostly I knew because I'd been waitin' for that look to be aimed at somebody else.  To be aimed at me.

Denton is a surprise, though.  I recognize that look he was throwin' at David.  Seen it in the mirror too many times to be able to forget it.  Could'a been me lookin' at Jack for all the attention David was giving Denton.

I rock back on my heels and watch them.  David looks scared, Jack's doin' his best not to seem worried, and Denton's only half paying attention to what Jack's asking him.  Too busy watchin' David.

Then Denton says something that's got both Jack and David looking at him in shock.  David's sure paying attention to him now.  Sneaky tactics.  I shake my head.  Poor bastard's gotta realize that won't work.  Already David's lookin' at Jack again.

Monahan's started Jack's trial.  I don't bother to pay attention.  Snyder's got an in with Monahan; ain't no way Jack's gonna win.  I know how the courts work.  Jacky-boy knows better'n me how these things work, but he's still fightin'.  

Not for any of the Newsies; he's fighting for David.  I have to finally admit that I ain't never gonna have Jack the way David does.

"This boy's real name is Francis Sullivan.  His mother's deceased.  His father's a convict in the state penitentiary.  He's an escapee from the House of Refuge where his original sentence for three months was extended to six months for disruptive behavior."  Snyder says it like he's been waitin' to say it a real long time.  Makes me want to smash his face in.

David looks like he's been hit, the way he's not lookin' at Jack anymore.  Guess he must not have known about that stuff Snyder was spouting.  I knew most of it myself, from stuff Jack told me and stuff I guessed.

I watch as Snyder and Monahan have themselves a grand time sentencing Jack to time in the Refuge until he's twenty-one.  I'm havin' a hard time controlling myself.  I wanna soak every one of the bums who think they can lock up Jack Kelly.

"So ordered."

Not if I have anything to say about it.

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Cards-- I know this isn't quite what you meant by "series", but here you go.  Next best thing, right?

Soaker-- Thanks, I especially liked that quote about Race.  Glad to know someone else appreciated it, lol.

Spartacus-- *grins* Well, you'll be yelling "Nooo" this time because this chapter is quite horrendous.  I told you it sux0rs.

Crunch-- Beautiful?  Awww.  *sniffles happily* If I convince but one person that slash is not so bad I can die a happy person.  LOL . . .I've been busy working on stories, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten your "Special first reviewer" prize.

Falco-- look, it's not only more sad stuff, it's more SPOT sad stuff!

Kaylee-- *shakes head* Look what your suggestion brought about.  I'm sure no one will ever forgive you . . . *grins*

Misprint-- I dunno if skill had anything to do with it, lol


End file.
